


certain as the sun

by sanzuh



Series: tale as old as time [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), F/M, Post - A Dance With Dragons, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:14:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26992717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanzuh/pseuds/sanzuh
Summary: They don't tell her to her face that some of them believe that he was also Jon's whore, but Brienne heard a group of builders grumbling about it. They don't seem to have the same reservations around her that they do around Sansa. Even Brienne wasn't completely honest with her about what she'd heard. Sansa had to pull it out of her. Apparently they were disgruntled that the Lord Commander wasn't satisfied with his man whore and his Wildling Princess, that he wanted another woman to warm his bed, while they were all freezing their balls off. There was also some speculation whether he is bedding Brienne, too, but they all seemed to agree that he was"fucking the pretty redhead."Sansa decided to ignore their gossip for now. It's not the worst thing people have said about her behind her back. She hasn't met Val the Wildling Princess yet, and Tormund told her she's not a princess at all, that it is just thekneelerswho call her that. The men call her a great beauty, and that does make Sansa wonder whether it's true that Jon bedded her before he was murdered.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: tale as old as time [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1968514
Comments: 42
Kudos: 200





	certain as the sun

Sansa hates Castle Black. She loves being reunited with Jon, more than she could have imagined, but the men here make her uncomfortable. She thinks Brienne shares her discomfort.

The wildlings are strange and loud and overwhelming, but it's the men of the Night's Watch who scare her the most, and not just because of what some of them did to Jon. She can see the way they look at her, both them and some of the wildlings. She's seen those greedy gazes before, and it scares her. The fact that she can tell that some of the men's hunger is mixed with fear only makes it worse. She tries to stay as far away from them as possible. 

There are a couple of exceptions though. Tormund seems to have taken a liking to her, and not in the same way as the other men have. He respects her. It would appear he's warmed to her because of her bond with Ghost, a fact that has made most of the men wary of her. And he was equally impressed by the way she handled Jon that first time. He's taken to calling her Lucky Lady Red, Tamer of Wolves. It brings a blush to Sansa's cheeks when he uses that moniker for her.

But it's Satin she likes the most. He's sweet and gentle, and perfectly courteous, and Sansa believes he loves Jon. Most of the men seem to have little respect for him. One of them warned her to stay away from him on her second day here, whispering that he used to be a whore back in Oldtown.

They don't tell her to her face that some of them believe that he was also Jon's whore, but Brienne heard a group of builders grumbling about it. They don't seem to have the same reservations around her that they do around Sansa. Even Brienne wasn't completely honest with her about what she'd heard. Sansa had to pull it out of her. Apparently they were disgruntled that the Lord Commander wasn't satisfied with his man whore and his Wildling Princess, that he wanted another woman to warm his bed, while they were all freezing their balls off. There was also some speculation whether he is bedding Brienne, too, but they all seemed to agree that he was _"fucking the pretty redhead."_

Sansa decided to ignore their gossip for now. It's not the worst thing people have said about her behind her back. She hasn't met Val the Wildling Princess yet, and Tormund told her she's not a princess at all, that it is just the _kneelers_ who call her that. The men call her a great beauty, and that does make Sansa wonder whether it's true that Jon bedded her before he was murdered.

She tugs her cloak closer around her as she crosses the courtyard and pulls her hood over her hair, smiling as Satin appears and starts in her direction, until she sees the panic on his face.

"My Lady!" he calls out from afar. "My Lady! We need you!"

Sansa clasps her throat. _Jon._ _No,_ Satin is coming from the wrong direction. "What happened?"

"There were visitors, Northmen, two brothers. They wanted to see the Wildling Princess. They tried to steal her, and she slit the oldest one's throat."

Sansa gasps. Just the night before, Tormund gave her a knife, warning her she might have to use it if one of the men tried to steal her. She didn't really understand what he meant by stealing, so she asked him to explain it to her, and he did.

"Why would two Northmen try to steal a Wildling Princess?" she asks Satin as she hurries after him, following him back to where he came from.

"It must be because of KingStannis."

"Stannis Baratheon?"

"He declared that the man who weds her will become Lord of Winterfell when he takes it from the Boltons."

Rage flares in Sansa's chest. _Winterfell does not belong to Stannis to give away to whomever he likes._

When they arrive at the scene of the skirmish, Tormund is nose to nose with a black brother. A man in rich, black clothing, embellished with bronze adornments is trying to attack a tall and beautiful blonde in white furs, but he is being held back by several other wildlings. The body is still bleeding out into the snow and all around them are more men of the watch and wildlings, and Sansa can tell a fight is about to break out.

She takes a deep breath and tilts her chin up. _I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell,_ she reminds herself. _This is the North. People will listen to me._ Satin came to her, after all, didn't he?

"Who can explain to me what is happening here?" she calls out, praying her voice will not waver.

The man in black and bronze spits into the snow, but when he sees all the others around him halt whatever it is they're doing and take a deferential step back, he acknowledges her with a nod. Val crosses her arms in front of her chest and cocks her head as she studies Sansa, who decides to ignore her.

What happened, my lord, pray tell?" she asks the visitor. She recognizes the horse sigil on his cloak now.

"The savage woman murdered my brother!" he fumes.

"I was told you were trying to steal the Wildling Princess," she points out. "Do you deny it, Lord... Ryswell?"

The man's eyes widen, but he squares his shoulders. "I do not, my lady."

She looks around to find all eyes on her. "Well, it appears the Princess didn't wish to be stolen." Val laughs when she says that, and Sansa tries to keep her face stern. "And as far as I am concerned, every woman has a right to defend herself."

"I demand compensation!" the Ryswell lord bristles. "And I want what was promised. The woman, and Winterfell. It's what I deserve."

"Lord Rickard?" she guesses.

"Roose," he corrects her.

She lets her hood slip down her hair. "I am Sansa of House Stark, and Winterfell belongs to me, Lord Roose. You don't deserve anything."

Reluctantly, but with a hint of fear in his eyes, Roose falls to his knees. "My Lady!" he exclaims. "I thought you were dead!"

"Satin, Tormund," she says, staring down at him. "Throw him into one of the ice cells, before he gets it into his head to try to steal me as well."

Val is not the only one to laugh this time, but Roose leaps to his feet again and glares at her. "Stark bitch! Wildling whore!" he bites at her. "You're as bad as that bastard brother of yours!" He spits again, and it lands on Sansa's chin.

The men around her move as one, but the flash of black that appears out of nowhere is quicker than all of them. Roose Ryswell is lifted into the air by one strong hand that wraps around his throat, and Jon snarls at him. Both the wildlings and the black brothers retreat, some of them running away without looking back.

Tormund and Satin approach Jon, and Val pulls Sansa away with an arm around her shoulders, wiping the spit from her chin with the sleeve of her fur coat. Roose Ryswell's face is turning purple, his hands clawing at the one around his throat as his dangling feet start to spasm, but Satin and Tormund can't get Jon to release him. He only growls and snaps his teeth at them. 

Sansa steps out of Val's embrace and orders the two men aside with a hand on their arms.

"Jon," she whispers, curling her fingers around his free wrist. His head jerks around, and she almost flinches at the sight of him. His fury has twisted his features into a feral mask that hardly resembles the strong, sweet face she knows, and his eyes are black pools of burning rage. Her breath hitches and it feels as if her heart is trying to leap out of her chest. 

"Jon, you're killing him," she tells him, but he doesn't respond. 

She remembers how her song soothed him on the day they were reunited, but she can't recall the words to any of the songs she's ever learned right now. She wishes she was strong enough to make him release Ryswell, pick him up and lay him down in his bed, where he would be her sweet wolf again. 

" _My featherbed is deep and soft,_ _and there I'll lay you down_ ," she starts singing. She takes Jon's hand and places it over her cheek, leaning into his touch as she sings. 

_"I'll always keep you warm and safe, and guard you with my sword." _

Jon blinks, and Roose Ryswell drops to the ground in a miserable heap. Jon turns to her, and then his hands are on her shoulder and the small of her back, pulling her into his arms. His body is still pulsing with rage, but there is no fear in her anymore. 

She presses her lips to his throat and starts humming again. Eventually his breathing evens out and he starts stroking her hair.

"Safe?" he asks her.

"Safe," she confirms, turning her head to press her cheek to his collarbone. Val is staring at them with wide blue-grey eyes and an odd quirk of a smile on her lips. 


End file.
